


Baz Pitch is not dating the 'Chosen One'

by iamarosegarden



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown, M/M, Watford, at watford, outsider pov, penny and agatha are also there but only in passing, written from the perspective of ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamarosegarden/pseuds/iamarosegarden
Summary: “I mean, honestly, his boyfriend seems more like a ‘chosen one’, ya know,”“Yea- What? His- his what? His boyfriend? What?”“The guy… with the black hair… who’s always staring at him? I assumed they were together…”“What!? No, no no no. NO. Oh my god, no. They- they’re like enemies. Oh my god,” .-or, the one where we see what i imagine other students at watford think of simon and baz





	Baz Pitch is not dating the 'Chosen One'

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for carry on, and the first time i've ever competed in a fandom event so, that's chill. i hope you all like it!  
> i haven't read the book in a while, so if i got anything wrong, please tell me!
> 
> special thanks: lovelysandlonelys for helping with some dialogue and betaing

Eric arrived at Watford late, he was a fifth year his first year going there. Almost immediately when he stepped onto the grounds he was pulled toward Ben via the crucible, barging into an astrology class with his duffel bag still slung over one shoulder.

It had been incredibly awkward.

Mages that were other species, and that came from outside the old families weren’t as rare as most people were led to believe, it was just that more often than not they were either turned away, or just left undiscovered (there were several people from his pod that had magic, but had no idea how to use it, and could never get trained). But more and more were coming to Watford, especially with The Mage’s more inclusive acceptance rules. Eric himself was a selkie (the first to ever attend Watford).

His roommate had asked several questions about his pelt, which, was incredibly rude. So they got off on the wrong foot. Half because of all the questions, and half because Ben was slightly bitter about suddenly having a roommate after four years with a room to himself.

A week after arriving, his schedule was finally sorted out. They’d done a few placement test so that he could possibly avoid taking classes with a bunch of twelve year olds. Luckily, Eric (apparently) had a natural affinity for Advanced Spell Work and Astrology. The only classes he ended up taking with first years was mythical zoology. 

He was glad his dam had made him and his littermates enrol in normal school so he wasn’t going in completely blind. It was kind of like he was going to a different, magical, high school.

He had lunch with Ben, which was good, because Ben was one of the only people he knew. And because it meant he could grill him about Watford politics.

“So… he’s the chosen one?” Eric twisted around in his seat to face the table where Simon Snow was sitting. His roommate grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back around to face forward. Presumably so Eric wasn’t caught staring. 

“Yeah,” said Ben, and it came out like a sigh. 

“Really? I mean he seems great, like, nice and all that, smells like magic, definitely a fighter. But not really- not really ‘chosen one’ material?”

“Yeah,” Ben was resting his face on a fist, staring at the space above Eric’s left shoulder- at Simon Snow. Hypocrite.

“I mean, honestly, his boyfriend seems more like a ‘chosen one’, ya know,” Eric continued, looking over Ben’s shoulder at the guy who was always staring at Simon, then lets his eyes drift back to Ben, who was looking at him already. They’d only had half their classes today, and in all the ones Eric shared with Simon Snow, the hot guy with the black hair was staring at Simon. Which, Eric could get, Simon was attractive (like, damn), but you had to call it at some point, and Eric was calling it. They were banging.

“Yea- What? His- his what? His boyfriend? What?” Ben sat up straighter in his seat, a look of amused and confused shock on his face.

“The guy… with the black hair… who’s always staring at him? I assumed they were together…”

“What!? No, no no no. NO. Oh my god, no. They- they’re like enemies. Oh my god,” Ben, who was also very attractive, rocked back into his chair, his fist now pressed against his mouth to keep in laughter, a few locks of hair falling onto his forehead with the sudden movement. 

Eric was starting to think all mages were attractive, or maybe that was just him being super pan, a term he had to explain to several people (which he was used to). He was not used to the completely unveiled disapproval and disgust. Apparently mages hadn’t moved as forward with that type of thing, what with the ‘old families’ and separation from the mainstream.

“No, they’re together. I mean, seriously, all the staring? The Longing LooksTM? You have to see it,” Eric said, leaning forward across the table toward Ben, who glanced around to make sure no one else was paying attention to them before he burst out laughing.

“No! No way, there's literally no way. Baz Pitch-” he thrust a thumb over his shoulder at hot-long-black-hair-guy, “is the first son of one of the old families. There’s no way he-” he leaned toward Eric and lowered his voice (oKay, that’s okay, Eric had to resist the urge to lean back (or forward)) “there’s no way he’s gay. Besides, Simon has a girlfriend.”

“That blonde chic? But… she looks, like, dead inside when she looks at Simon. And Baz? Well, maybe there’s no way he’s out, but he’s definitely gay,” Eric leaned back, “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” Ben leaned back as well, so that he wasn’t hunched over the table, but still leaning toward Eric, with his forearms on the table, his voice flavored with amusement, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, I can tell,” He paused, settling back into his seat, reveling in the look of interest on Ben’s face. This was probably the longest- longest interesting- conversation he’d had with his new roommate since they’d been cast together by the crucible. “My theory is that the nemesis thing is so his family doesn’t figure out how gay he is for the chosen one, and Simon helps make sure it’s a secret by fake-dating Agatha.”

“Okay, okay sure, Eric. That’s totally what's happening right now, Simon and Agatha are definitely faking their dramatic on-off relationship, so that no one finds out Baz Pitch: Heir of the Grimm-Pitch family, and Simon Snow: Heir to the Mage, are dating,” Ben said, leaning into his arms and sliding them onto the table to rest his head on them, hiding a sly smile in his elbow as he finished his sentence. 

“Hey, I’m not saying you have to believe that's what’s happening, I’m just saying that’s what’s happening.”

That was the first time they talked about Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, and weather or not they were dating.

*

The twentieth time they talked about it they were in Advanced Spell Work class, which came after Spell Linguistics and Spell Postering in first and second year, and Spell Work in third year and Spell Work 2 in fourth year. (The class was basically for anyone who had already completed those courses and needed practice so it was a mix of fifth years and upward.) 

The classroom looked more like a college classroom than Eric was used to, and it took him a while to perfect passing notes. Simon was sitting in the front row, and Baz sat one row behind him. Simon stood with his wand in front of him, flicking his wrist and muttering “Olly Olly Oxen Free,” with increasing amounts of frustration as he failed to make the invisible ink on the paper in front of him visible.

Simon Snow was about to go off. 

That’s what everyone else was whispering, and Eric could see where the analogy came from. Simon’s magic was pluming out of him like smoke, just not in the direction he wanted it to. 

It made Eric especially uncomfortable. As a selkie, as a creature of the sea, he did not appreciate fire, and right now it smelt like he was about two inches away from a blazing campfire. 

Simon’s magic acted like smoke too, it clogged up your lungs and made your mind slightly hazy. It contrasted sharply with Eric’s own magic, which he’d been told felt like currents shifting the sand at the bottom of the ocean. 

So yeah, he was uncomfortable, and he was really, really hoping Simon didn’t go off, because he’d heard several stories about what happened when he went off. It was like a bomb, like a wildfire, it was explosive and super-heated and dangerous. The air was sizzling with Simon’s magic and Eric found himself scooching closer to Ben in order to get away from it. That didn’t work, of course, but it did ease his nerves slightly because Ben’s magic felt like the dirt you got underneath your fingernails when you gardened. Which wasn’t the ocean or even water but, it also wasn’t fire, so that was a step up from what Simon was putting off.

When Eric had first seen Simon, he’d thought that Simon looked like a beach, but now he was more inclined to say Simon looked like a forge, his eyes and hair were not the sea and the sand, they were the hottest fire and melted bronze. 

“Use your words, Snow!” Baz barked from where he was sitting, his wand already neatly slipped back into his sleeve. 

Simon turned around to glare at Baz, and Baz met his glare head on, forcing Simon to focus on the task at hand, which was not decimating everyone in the classroom. Simon’s glare softened as he turned back to the paper and spoke clearly “Olly Olly Oxen Free,”

Nothing. Eric took another half step toward Ben, his arm- and his arm band (his magical instrument)- coming up so that he could cast a Take Cover or a Raise the Practical Barrier or some other protective spell so that at the very least he and Ben weren’t burnt up. 

“Simon, use your damn words,” Baz grit out, leaning over the seat divider/desk to say it closer to Simon’s ear.

Simon let out a deep breath, before rolling his wrist and saying “Olly Olly Oxen Free.”

The magic in the room rushed toward Simon’s wand and then out of it. The words appeared on the papers and all around the room, draws opened, their contents being placed neatly on Simon’s desk. People had to get a hand on their wallets when they started to come out of their pockets. Several people yelped as tampons flew out of bags, along with other trinkets that were intentionally hidden from view. 

By the end of it Simon’s desk was cluttered with people’s belongings, and he hadn’t even used all the magic in the room. The rest of it slowly trickled back into Simon, who started fidgeting.

“Mr. Snow, please take a break outside. Mr. Pitch, go with your roommate,” the Professor said, and Simon quickly got up and went out the door. Baz followed after him in a leisurely manner, his steps slow and refined, just like the rest of his actions. 

Immediately after the door closed behind them Penelope Bunce Raised her hand. “May I go the the washroom?”

The professor just gestured to the door, and by the time she put her hand back down Penelope was already out of the room.

“Please check your pockets, and if you are missing something make your way to Mr. Snow’s desk,” said Ms. Waigaud, her voice stiff with annoyance. Nearly everyone stood up and shuffled toward the pile of trinkets, notes, wallets, and tampons. 

Eric sat back down in his seat and when Ben followed suit he leaned over to talk to him, “So, you’re gonna tell me, that’s not what’s happening right now?”

Ben turned to look at Eric and Eric grinned at him. Ben let out a long breath through his nose before looking back to the front of the room, where people were still collecting their belongings from Simon’s desk. “That’s not what’s happening right now. Simon just got back with Agatha. And in my math this girl and Baz were flirting. There’s still no way.”

“Oh Ben. Oh sweet, sweet Benny Boy. We both know you’re in denial, and that I’m right. Baz just talked Simon off from the edge, tell me that’s not some supportive boyfriend shit right there.”

“Oh Eric. Oh naive, naive Eric, who wants to see love in the most ludicrous of places. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is not ‘banging’-” he put quotations around ‘banging’ because he was quoting Eric. “-the chosen one.” 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Eric said, patting Ben on the shoulder.

*

The one hundred and fourth time they had a conversation about whether or not Simon and Baz were dating, it was the beginning of their sixth year, which meant it was the beginning of Simon and Baz’s eighth year.

“Hmmmmmm,” said Ben.

“Hmmmmmm, what?” said Eric.

“Hmmmmmm, Simon doesn’t look so good,” said Ben, his eyes on something above Eric’s shoulder.

“Hmmmmmm, that’s because Baz still isn’t here,” said Eric, glancing above Ben’s shoulder.

Then they both looked away from their respective above shoulder spots and met eyes. 

“You… might actually be right,” said Ben.

“So!” Eric slammed a hand down on the table, as his other hand came up to support his chin, “You finally admit that I was right all along.”

“No, I still don’t think Baz and Simon are dating. I’m just saying that he’s probably wondering what Baz is up to, with them being nemesis and all.”

“And I’m just saying that you should cut the crap and recognize the truth.”

“The truth,” Ben replied with a straight face, obviously not recognizing the truth. 

“The truth,” Eric replied with conviction. 

Ben rolled his eyes and started eating his breakfast. “I seriously don’t think you’re right, but it’s a nice thought, Eric,” he said around a mouthful of eggs.

“It’s not a thought, it’s the truth,” said Eric before taking a bite out of his roll.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a thought,” said Ben.

They continued to eat in silence for a bit, before Eric said, “We could probably settle this by just hanging around them and seeing if they slip… well, if Baz slips. Simon just lets it be known he’s obsessed with Baz and hopes everyone thinks it’s because he hates Baz.“

“But why would we hang around them? We don’t know them at all. Snow doesn’t hang out with anyone but Penelope and Agatha and Baz, and Baz doesn’t hang out with anyone but those two old family kids in his year. No way we could worm our way into that circle of people, they’d see out ulterior motive: trying to figure out if they’re fucking,” countered Ben, before shoving a full strip of bacon into his mouth.

“Ugh, true,” said Eric, then under his breath, “damn it.” He them proceeded to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth like there was no tomorrow.

“This is why you’re the muscle, and I’m the brains,” said Ben, pushing his empty plate away from himself.

It was right about then that Baz threw open the the dining hall doors. 

Eric squeaked and choked on the eggs he was swallowing, having to grab his glass of water and down it to dislodge them. “Oh my god,” he whispered when he finally got the eggs down. “Oh. My. God,” he said, turning to Ben with a grin on his face before whipping around to look at Baz as he stepped through the doorway. “Oh my god,” he said, turning to look at Simon’s reaction. “Oh my god, Ben, look at Simon,” he said, with a giddy laugh that Ben was tempted to call a giggle. 

Ben does look at Simon, who seems extremely relieved that Baz is alive. Which, honestly, did not bode well for Ben’s ‘they’re not dating’ stance.

Baz continued to walk through the hall, looking like a returning hero. He passes Ben and Eric on the way to his table, and then sits down. He just… sits down, like he hadn’t been missing for the first couple months of classes when he’d never missed so much as a day before. Ben is both impressed and slightly disappointed. 

Everyone in the hall slowly started talking again, and Ben twisted to face forward. Looking at Eric, he finds it hard to be disappointed, because Eric looks absolutely stoked. “Oh my gooooooooood, Ben. That- that has to prove it to you. Simon’s been worrying about his boyfriend for weeks, and he’s super relieved to have him back. And- oh my god, Baz just sent Simon another Longing LookTM. Ben, they are so in love.”

“That’s so not what’s happening,”

*

The one hundred and eightieth time they talked about whether or not Simon and Baz were dating, a dragon was attacking Watford. It was a very painful reminder that Simon Snow was the Chosen One, the main character of their narrative and their only hope should the Humdrum decide to drain Watford of it’s magic, or burn the whole school down with a dragon.

They’re pulled out by a “your attention please” to the drawbridge along with all the other residents of Mummers house, to see Simon snow and Penny Bunce standing in front of a dragon, a terrifying thing, with scales redder than blood, huge fan-like wings, and eyes like a cat.

Eric was terrified, because if the dragon didn’t burn down Mummers House, then Simon going off would, and Eric’s pelt was in Mummers house and if either of those things happened then he would never be able to join back up with pod or ever go back into the ocean again and- and he just couldn’t do that. He couldn’t! He expressed this to Ben, who didn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation. 

“I mean, that won’t happen! And even if your pelt does get… damaged, then that doesn’t mean you can’t ever go back in the ocean, I mean, humans can swim and- but yeah! It probably won’t even come to that, I’m sure,”

“You don’t-’ a frantic breath, “you don’t get it! Water feels wrong in this skin, too sticky, too- it’s just wrong and- and I can’t- I wouldn’t be a selkie anymore, I’d just be… I don’t even know what I’d be.” Eirc was pulling at his hair with one hand and gripping Ben’s forearm with the other, his features pinched in distress, “I might die, or go mad… I’d rather die,” 

He was thinking more like a seal, then, than a human.

“Eric, calm down, Simon’s got this, everything will be fine,” Eric opened his mouth to object, or to freak out more, but Ben grabbed the hand Eric had on his forearm, and firmly said, “everything will be fine,”

Eric didn’t believe him, that much was obvious, but he did calm down a bit. And turned to watch Simon as he ran forward to the dragon. Simon had slain a dragon before, during his first year, surely he could slay another. 

They watched as the thing blew fire at Simon, who looked a bit like a dancer as he threw himself to the ground and out of the way, the ribbon of flames curling back into the dragon’s mouth. The dragon tried to slice Simon with it’s teeth when it was done spewing fire, but Simon rolled away and back onto his feet, scrapes left in the earth by the dragon’s teeth stark against the lawn. The dragon snorted in anger, smoke leaking out of it’s nostrils like an old cartoon, before it lunged at Simon, snapping it’s jaws. 

Simon swings his sword at it’s neck, the light glinting off it and making it look especially menacing as it catches beneath the scales of the dragon, who takes off again, Simon going with it, dangling from his sword like an acrobat and swinging up so that his knees are tucked beneath its jaws. 

He’s struggling to get the sword out when Baz pushes past them on the ramp, flicking his wand out of his sleeve and casting a “Hear ye, hear ye,” before yelling at Simon, his voice carrying across the whole lawn.

“Simon! Don’t hurt it!” Don’t hurt it? Don’t hurt it!? The thing was about to burn down Watford, burn down everyone’s lives, and Baz was yelling not to hurt it?

Simon seemed to agree, turning away from Baz to focus on getting the sword out. 

Baz yells again, “Simon! Wait!” he’s approaching the edge of the ramparts, “They’re not dark creatures!” He leaped up on top of the wall, then out over the building in front of the moat, and then… takes a running jump off the building. Ben flinched, but he still couldn’t look away, Eric squeezed his hand in comfort. Baz is floating over the moat and onto the lands on the other side. It’s incredibly graceful. Eric forgets his panic for a small moment, looking between Baz and Simon as they look at each other the sun shining off the dragon’s scales to cast Simon in an odd, fascinating light. 

The Dragon turns to look at Baz, looking like it has forgotten it’s panic for a moment at well, it’s wings slowing from a frantic beat like a heart attack to a steady thump as it tilts its head at Baz, sparks jumping out of it’s mouth and sizzling small patches of grass beneath it. 

Baz runs toward the thing, stopping in front of it in a spell casting stance. 

Simon yell “Baz! No! You’re flammable!” Eric and Ben can barely hear it from their place on the drawbridge, the pumps of the dragon’s wings making large gust of wind that whistled in their ears, attempting to drown out Simon’s words. 

Baz’s hear ye hear ye must of worn off because his reply is nearly drowned out as well. “So is everything!”

“Baz!” Simon yelps, still hanging off the dragon’s neck as Baz raises his wand.

Eric’s hand tightens around Ben’s as the first line of Baz’s spell begins. “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children are gone,” it’s the first line in a common pest spell, and for a moment Ben’s panic swells up to Eric’s level, who’s basically petrified watching what’s going on, but then Baz continues. “Ladybird, ladybird fly away home, your house is on fire and your children shall burn. All except one, and her is Nan, and she hid under the porridge pan.” 

He’s trying to cast the whole nursery rhyme. Nursery rhymes are very powerful spells, pumped into people’s brains as children and then stuck there for the rest of their lives. Ben is tempted to help Baz with his spell, but as soon as he goes to begin the words, begins to focus on something else other than Simon Snow and that stupid dragon, his head is forced to snap back to Simon, his your attention please still in effect.

He has to use his peripheral vision to look at Eric, and judging by the look of frustrated anguish on his face he’s in the same boat. Forced to be a specter of this doomed battle by Simon’s spell. 

“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn,” the dragon’s wings slow even farther, until it’s landed in front of Baz, one bloody puff of breath, and then their only hope at saving Watford will burn, and they’ll be forced to watch as Simon tries to kill the thing because he doesn’t have the time or the mind to undo his spell, probably couldn’t even if he tried.

“All but one, and that’s little John, and he lies under the grindle stone.”

Simon slides off the beast’s neck, taking his sword with him as he falls to the ground, he looks around and sees us all watching, stuck in place and watching like gobsmacked sheep. Even Penelope Bunce, whose magic is like a never ending well, is stuck staring.

“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn. All except one, and her name is Aileen, and she hid under a soup tureen.” The dragon stamps it feet, looking behind it, like it actually wants to leave, like the spell is working, but then is hisses and spreads it’s wings wide in frustration. Baz lifts his voice louder. “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children shall burn,” the dragon shakes it’s head and starts to turn, and yes, it definitely wants to leave, but it’s torn between Baz’s spell and whatever the Humdrum has done to it. Baz’s wand arm is shaking, visible even from where they stand, but he keeps going as Simon moves to stand behind him.

“Ladybird, ladybird, fly-” Simon places his hand on Baz’s shoulder, and Baz’s arm stops shaking, his voice hitching louder mid sentence, the faint smell of smoke in the air coming from something other than when burnt grass, “Away Home.”

The dragon shudders and lurches back. Yes! Maybe they’re not doomed after all. Thank god for Simon Snow and his huge reserves of magic, because he’s somehow shared it with Baz, who is actually a decent spell caster. “Ladybird, Ladybird, Fly Away Home!” The Dragon heaves itself up into the air and backward, and as it turns around, flying home, Simon’s spell finally breaks it’s hold. Everyone starts clapping and shouting, applauding the chosen one and his roommate as the dragon disappears, flying off into the distance.

Eric immediately tears his hand out of Ben’s and casts a “Raise the Particle Barrier,” swinging his arm in front of them as he says it. He’d been trying to cast it the entire time Simon and Baz had been fighting the dragon, so after it left he couldn’t stop himself from casting it, even if they no longer needed it. A light blue half circle made up of hexagons appears around them. He’d also been trying to cast a spell to bring his pelt to him, but his instincts kept him from shouting “bring back what once was mine,” and bringing his pelt out into the open where anyone could snatch it. 

Eric and Ben turn to each other just as Baz turns around, Simon’s hand still on his shoulder, “As you were,” he shouts, pointing his wand at the school. Well, maybe they did need it. Eric’s shield is immediately shatters by the force of the magic, but neither of them feel compelled to leave like the rest of the scattering students, so he counts it as a win. 

They both duck behind one of the drawbridges’ support beams to watch the aftermath. Eric’s hands shaking slightly with left over adrenaline and panic. 

“Told you it’d be fine,” Ben says, trying to lighten the mood. Eric snatches at the light dialogue readily, immediately replying in a teasing voice. 

“You always were better at divination than me,” he says, giving Ben a small smile.

“But, are you really okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Eric wipes at his eyes, brushing away a few tears that had gathered in the cornes. “I was just really scared for a little bit, I think I might have to find a new spot for my pelt… but I’m fine. I’ll be all right after I process everything.” A change in tone, “But right now I just wanna talk about the new evidence for my case: Simon and Baz are obviously boyfriends,”

Ben was used to the fast change of tone, and knew Eric would talk to him if he needed to, so, he replied, maybe a bit too quickly “that’s so not what’s happening right now,”

“Again: new evidence.” Eric said, poking his head around the support beam to look at Baz, Simon, and Penelope as they started walking toward the bridge. 

“We should leave before they see us lurking in the shadows discussing their nonexistent love life,” Ben said, poking Eric in the shoulder to get him to turn around.

“Oh yeah, probably. Let’s go to the dining hall. I need some ice cream after that,” Eric said, straightening up and stepping out onto the bridge.

“I was gonna say we should go back to class but… I agree,” Ben said as he followed Eric across the lawn.

When they got to the dining hall Ben open sesameed the door open with his pen (that was his magical instrument, a pen, Ben hated it because he thought it was boring, but Eric thought it was cool) and then spelled it closed behind them.

The dining hall was empty after lunch until the end of seventh period when the cooks started preparing dinner. There was a lock spell on the door that most students couldn’t undo until sixth year, and by then most students had learned to pack snacks for go without food or they’d just accepted that the hall was off limits during the day.

Eric strolled toward the kitchen door like he’d done this a thousand times while Ben spelled the door shut. Ben followed to find him at the freezer, digging through the cups of ice cream (you know, the ones that came with a shitty wooden spoon).

“So, we got vanilla, chocolate, chocolate vanilla swirl, neapolitan, and sherbert,” He said, emerging from the freezer with a smile on his face, “pick your poison,”

“Ummm, I’ll take neapolitan,”

“Gross,” Eric said, even as he turned to retrieve it from the freezer.

“It’s not gross, it’s a delicious blend of all the classic flavors,”

Eric slammed the freezer door shut and tossed Ben two cups of neapolitan, “Ugh, that’s a really nice description, but it’s still gross,” 

Eric started peeling off one of the paper lids while he walked toward the kitchen door, tossing it in the trash situated right by the end of their normal table before walking to their normal spots. Because even though they had the whole hall to themselves, they had to sit in same seats they always did.

“So, what was that evidence you were talking about?” Ben asked as they both fell into their respective seats.

“Oh! Yeah! Get ready for the not-dating-theory to get debunked!” He cleared his throat, and put on a more serious voice, “Exhibit A. He called him Simon which-”

Ben tries to cut in, “Everybody calls him Simon-”

Eric just keeps talking over him, on a roll now, “-is significant if you consider the fact that Baz usually calls him ‘Snow’. Now, we’ve already had a discussion about why it’s important that he calls Simon ‘Snow,’ but let’s review;  
“Theory one is that he uses it because everyone else calls Simon ‘Simon,’ and wants to, as Simon’s boyfriend, separate him from the majority. Theory two is that he uses Simon’s last name rather than his first in order to put distance between them as ‘nemesis’. To be honest, it’s probably a mix of the two.  
“What just happened is evidence for theory two, Baz, out of fear for his bf, slipped out of their usual act and called him Simon  
“Exhibit Two,”

“You mean B,” Ben corrected, opening his ice cream as Eric looked at him in confusion, “you were using letters,” he explained, licking off the lid, pretending not to notice how Eric’s stare intensified, “Also, have you ever considered that, I don’t know, they’re just friends. Or, even that they are exactly what they appear to be, which is two kids who hate each other but are roommates,”

Eric gave him a blank look, “I’ve considered it, yes,” he replied.

Ben gave him a look that said, ‘I am only going to argue with you after you've finished your rant about how gay they are for eachother.’

“Exhibit B,” Eric began enthusiastically, pausing to stick out his slightly orange-tinted tongue at Ben, “Is that Simon listened, he stopped trying to kill a dragon while on said dragon’s neck and in mortal danger to listen to his boyfriend!” he scooped some sherbert onto the shitty wooden spoon and shoved it into his mouth before gesturing wildly with the spoon, ice cream still grasped in his other hand. “I mean, who does that Ben!? Who does that! And! And!”  
Eric had lost all the faux-seriousness and was now trying to reign it back in, unsuccessfully, “Exibit C. Where was Agatha?” He exaggerated the confusion in his voice, raising an eyebrow up to his hairline, “Everyone is expecting her and Simon to get back together, and now would have been the perfect time, her ex-boyfriend-soon-to-be-boyfriend-boyfriend has once again heroically saved Watford. But where was she? Watching them from afar on the ramparts, because the whole relationship was fake from the beginning and they’re trying to ease people off the idea that Simon Snow is straight.  
“And finally, Exhibit E. That weird thing where Baz’s voice suddenly got louder and more ‘magically saturated’-” Eric put quotations around ‘magically saturated’ because he was quoting their third year Spell Work textbook (“the magical saturation of one’s voice is how much magic the user is using while casting, there is no scale for this, but it is a term you will need to know to describe other’s spell casting” - page 235), “when Simon put his hand on his shoulder? One can argue that that was One) out of anger cuz its his nemesis Simon Snow touching his shoulder or Two) some freaky magic shit happened. OR THREE) he got stronger knowing that his boyfriend was supporting him. I suspect a mix of theory two and three because Simon is the chosen one but also, like, Exhibit A and B and c are already proof enough so the suspicions origins of Exhibit E are excused.”

He smugly sat back in his chair and ate more ice cream, leveling Ben with a challenging look as he waited for Ben’s rebuttal.

“You done?” Ben asked.

Eric nodded happily.

“Exhibit A is null because he obviously used Simon just because Simon responds to that name better. Exhibit B; ummm, he probably just wanted to know what the heck Baz was doing so close to the dragon. Exhibit C. Agatha just wasn’t ready to get back together, like, god, she doesn’t belong to Simon, not everything she does is relative to him,” he gets a bit heated, stabbing a accusing finger at Eric, “you sexist,” Ben pauses after that, and can’t help but laugh at Eric’s distraught face. 

“I… I’m not sexist! It’s just that all Agatha dose is be his girlfriend,” Eric defended, slowly bringing a scoop of ice cream to his mouth.

“Wow,” Ben said, trying to keep a smile off his face as he ignored Eric’s squawk of objection, “wOw, Eric. I can’t believe you, a feminist, would reduce this girl to her boyfriend,” he spooned some of his own ice cream into his mouth to punctuate the sentence. 

“Pfft,” said Eric, “I’m not- I know she does stuff that doesn’t relate to Simon, but I’m just saying, that usually when they break up, they get back together after Simon does something, and IF THEY’RE FAKE DATING LIKE I SUSPECT, then they would follow that pattern closely. So I’m not really talking about Agatha when I say ‘where was Agatha,’ I’m talking about the strategic soap opera that is Simon and Agatha’s fake relationship, not Agatha Agatha. She’s super cool, she won that riding competition for the school last week,”

“I feel like you’re just trying to cover up your sexism,” said Ben.

“I feel like you’re trying to avoid disproving exhibit E because you don’t have a rebuttal,” said Eric.

Ben stood up and tossed his empty ice cream cups in the trash. “That’s so not what’s happening,”

“Suuuuure,” said Eric, following Ben and throwing his empty cups in the trash.

Ben nodded as he opened one of the Hall’s doors open for Eric. “Exhibit E is complete garbage because you yourself admitted it was probably because his Enemy was touching him,” Ben said after Eric walked past him, letting the door fall closed.

“Come On. Beeeeen, you have to admit that was some super freaky magic shit,” Eric whined, starting to walk toward the stairs that would lead to their sixth period. 

“That’s so not what’s happening,” Ben replied, bumping his shoulder with Eric’s.

*

The two hundredth and tenth time they talked about weather or not Simon Snow and Baz Grimm-Pitch were dating was at the Leavers Ball. 

Ben and Eric were sitting together at one of the table’s off to the side, Ben complaining about being unable to land a dance and Eric mentally whining about how he couldn’t ask Ben to dance without the other boy freaking out about people seeing.

Ben took another sip of his punch, trying hard to keep himself from slumping back against the chair or table, because while that posture was more comfortable it would make him look ridiculous while in a suit. 

Meanwhile, next to him Eric had already leaned back in the chair and kicked his feet up on the table. Because Eric was like that, he wasn’t afraid of looking ridiculous, so he didn’t.

“This punch has not been spiked, american movies, you have let me down,” Ben said, hoping to spark some kind of conversation so that they weren’t just sitting in silence while girls and boys in their best dresses and suits danced (if you could really call the awkward sway-sway-step that most people were doing dancing) past their table.

Eric snorted. “The Leavers Ball is nothing like normal high school dances so I’m not really surprised it isn’t living up to movie expectations,”he replied, pushing his chair a little farther from the table so that the edge wasn’t digging into his caves. 

Ben rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his punch before setting it down on the navy tablecloth. “Do you know where Baz is?”

“Why would Baz be here? His boyfriend’s not coming, and his friends don’t really hang with him after everything” Eric said. 

Ben looked at Eric in surprise, “he’s coming, he told the headmistress he would. I’m surprised you haven’t heard,”

“I can’t keep tabs on the lovebirds at all times,” replied Eric, his eyes scanning the room as a new song came on. 

Ben cocked his head, as if doing that would help him hear the song better, “Is this Into My Arms?” he asked just as the lyrics started. 

“Yes,” answered Eric, even though Ben no longer needed an answer. 

Ben snorted and then they fell into a comfortable silence, watching the people on the dance floor. Ben’s eyes drifted up to the ceiling, where the decoration committee had strung up streamers and fairy lights. It was surprisingly nice.

He hears something thud onto the floor, and turned to look at Eric. His feet were no longer on the table, and he was sat up straight in the chair looking at the dance floor. Ben had just started to follow his gaze, bewildered, when Eric reached out a blind had and began to slap at Ben’s arm. 

“Ben,”

“What?”

“Ben, look,” a slow grin began to spread across Eric’s face as he said that, and Ben braced himself as he turned to look.

Baz was on the dance floor, in a nice suit, with his a hand on Simon’s waist, who is also in a nice suit , and has one hand clasped in Baz’s and the other on Baz’s shoulders. 

Eric was right.

“Oh my god,” whisper shouts Eric, “I was right,” he goes back to slapping at Ben’s arm. “I was right,” he repeats. 

“Aleister Crowley, you were right,” says Ben, as Baz pulls Simon closer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! i encourage you to comment and tell me what you thought, your favorite part, or your reactions. comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
> sidenote: there were italics and shit but Ao3 was like, nah. and i don't wanna redo them. sorry.


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